Outside
by softsmiles
Summary: Eps of Sydney's life once out of re-education
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Richelle Mead owns the Bloodlines series.**

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><p>They have gotten her back from the Alchemists.<p>

Finally.

At first, they can only hope that she is still okay. That she has stayed the same as when she was kidnapped four months ago. Adrian, most of all, fears that they have arrived four months too late. He wants to speak to her as soon as their impromptu crack team -consisting of the entire Palm Springs gang as well as Rose and Dimitri who have tagged along on their own will- manages to get her out, but she's unresponding. She's obviously passed out, and more than possibly drugged. Everyone is stealing glances at her small form, at her tattered clothes and at the bones sticking out that make her look awfully skinny, almost sickly, from their respective seats in the mini-van they're in. Jill oozes nervousness next to Eddie, whose uncertainty has replaced his usual expressionless guardian mask on his face. Angeline, Neil, Rose and Dimitri are crammed in the front seats, inspecting the roads they are passing through for possible threats in full guardian mode.

Adrian hovers over her, worry etched deep in his features, in the crease of his brow and in the downward tilt of his mouth. He wishes to heal her, but there are no physical wounds on her as far as he can tell, and he can't exactly take away the drugs in her body, so all he can do is wait. Wait and hope.

At last she wakes up.

She's still worn out by the drugs and he can feel the exhaustion radiating from her. He can see it in her eyes, her beautiful, golden eyes, that don't shine like they used to. The spark-and-glint has almost entirely vanished. It's because of the drugs. It's because of the hardships. It's because she hasn't realized what's going on. Adrian repeats the words to himself, over and over, like a mantra and then like a prayer and he's trying to force himself to believe them, but it's so hard when she's lying in the backseat, her head on his lap and her half-closed eyes so passive. She makes no move to get up. She lies there, still as a statue, her gaze averted from his, unmoving. She's staring at the roof of the van, but is not really looking at it, that much he can tell.

Seeing her like that makes his chest constrict and his breath hitch, but it's the uncertainty of the situation that breaks his heart. His hope that everything was going to be alright when they'd finally have her back is fading by each passing moment. He shouldn't have let this hope get the best of him, because now he can feel desperation crawling up to him, slowly but steadily. His throat tightens with each breath he takes, each tear he doesn't dare shed.

When he can't take it anymore, when he can sense the silence and stillness driving him mad, he reaches out and touches her hair. His toucn is featherlight, reverent, and at first she doesn't even feel it. He knows, because when he twirls a strand around his finger, she realizes what he's doing. Her body tenses up. Her eyes never move, but her shoulders stiffen. She doesn't say anything, though. He doesn't know if it's for the better or for the worse. He strokes her hair, softly, tentatively, putting as much affection as he can in the simple gesture. Physically touching her after so long has a soothing effect on him. Watching his hand move back and forth proves to be surprisingly calming.

Yet, she doesn't relax. She keeps her posture firm, the stiffness of her limbs intact. It scares him so much. It feels like her fiery spirit has been crushed. Like his flame in the dark has burned out. Like only the ashes of what she once was remain. He knows that spirit is only making everything so much worse. His thoughts are dark and hopeless, but he can't go into that black world of his right now. He has to be stronger than that. For her.

When she finally speaks, her words startle him. They encourage him and discourage him and they cause a hurricane of emotion to stir up inside him. Her voice is monotonous and tired, but he can hear the confusion, the hesitation and the fear. He has missed hearing it so much that a fresh wave of emotion seizes his heart. Her eyes shift to his. She says, "Adrian."

He lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding. At least she remembers him. She remembers them.

"Please, don't hurt me." Her voice is still dull and soft and quiet, but he can see the slight wetness of her eyes. "Please, don't bite me. Don't let them hurt me, either. Please." Her lower lip trembles, and the tiniest bit of emotion has crawled into her tone. Her eyes betray her the most, wide and fearful.

"I won't. Sydney, I swear that I won't let them hurt you. No one will ever hurt you from now on." He's trying to reassure her as much as he's trying to reassure himself. The look she gives him is disbelieving as much as it is hopeful, like she can't quite trust that he will stay true to his word, despite wanting to. It must have been hard, being torn so badly between who her heart and mind tell her to trust, he thinks to himself. So he tries again. "Really. Sage. You're safe now. You're with us. How could you even think that we could hurt you?" he asks.

The sincerity of his voice must have somehow shone through, because, surprisingly, she offers him a tentative smile that wobbles so much from her effort to hide her feelings, that it pains him. He offers her his hand, slowly and cautiously, as if towards a scared animal who might run away. She moves her hand and puts it on top of his just as slowly, hesitantly. The feeling of her skin touching his after so long is freeing and burning. It is pure joy, creating a form of happiness in him he didn't think possible after everything he's been through. He marvels at the way their hands fit together, her tiny fist curled into his long fingers. He pulls her up and entwines their fingers, so that their hands are palm to palm. The touch feels electric to him, and he turns his head to see if she feels it too.

He finds her staring at their combined hands, a different kind of wonder filling her features. Like she's only now realizing that what is happening is not a dream. She turns to him again.

"Tell me it's real."

"It's real," he replies emphatically, attempting to diminish every last trace of doubt from her mind.

"Promise me you won't bite me."

"Sydney, you must know-"

"Promise me," she insists stubbornly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I promise," he says solemnly. And then he tugs at her hand and he pulls her against him. "Is that okay?" he asks, just to make sure.

Instead of replying, she pushes herself as close to him as possible and clutches the back of his shirt so hard he's sure her knuckles have turned white. She puts her head in the crook of his neck and inhales. When she exhales, her breath sounds ragged and her body shakes with silent sobs. He can sense her relief, almost palpable in the restricted space the backseat offers. She presses her mouth close to his ear and murmurs to herself, "It's real. It's real. It's real," so quietly, again and again and again. Then, "Don't hurt me. Don't you ever hurt me. Don't let what they said about you be true," she pleads, her voice choked.

"Never," he replies. He pulls back so that he can see her face.

"Never," he repeats.

He savors her hopeful expression and the renewed light in her eyes, her eyes that he has been painting from memory for the past four months. But they are so much more beautiful when they are right in front of him. They steal his breath and his words and his thoughts and he can't bear the thought of losing them ever again. He stares at them, through them, in them and he's lost, so far gone that he doesn't notice her moving forward until after her lips have touched his.

The kiss is quick and closed-mouthed and so sweet he feels all the love he has for her swelling into him. She curls into his side and he puts his arms around her. He looks over her shoulder, at Jill and Eddie, who are smiling encouragingly at him, and gives them a slight nod.

She is going to be okay. He already feels okay. Everything is fine.

"Oh, Sydney. The center held."

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><p>AN: So. My first fanfiction ever. Constructive criticism is GREATLY appreciated- seriously, I can't say this enough. Be as harsh as you want to and tell me what's wrong with the pacing, the characters' voices, the dialogue etc.. If you liked it, I'm glad. If you didn't, please point out some or all of the stuff you disliked so I can get better. THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

When the question of where she is going to be staying is posed, Adrian immediately chimes in to say, rather decisively, that this question is meaningless.

Of course she'll be staying with him. Of course.

She puts up a half-hearted fight, saying that she will be a bother, that maybe she should stay on her own for a while, but in truth she wants this more than anything. Living with Adrian. Sleeping with Adrian. Waking up with Adrian. The fact that she is still very much an escapee and her mind is still a jumbled mess with seeds of doubt and fear planted here and there kind of ruin the mood, but. Going with him feels like a long lost dream that is finally coming true. She hasn't felt what she feels now for so long she almost doesn't recognize the foreign thing that courses through her.

Hope.

So she hesitantly rolls with the suggestion, hoping that this plan will actually work.

The house is probably temporary, but they are on the run, after all, so they will leave it sometime soon anyway. It's close enough to the Moroi Court to offer them some semblance of protection. Not close enough to make Sydney feel scared or uncomfortable. The progress she'd made on the subject of living next to vampires has been seriously thrown back because of reeducation. It feels like, two steps forward, one step back. She shudders when she thinks of what she'd have been like after only a few more months of being brainwashed if they hadn't gotten her out.

Thank God they did, is the only thing she can think of.

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><p>"Can I not sleep in here tonight?" she asks him on their first night back together, hands tangling together in a nervous gesture, hesitant, uncomfortable and a tiny bit scared of his reaction. Her gut's telling her he'll understand why she can't sleep next to him just yet. Her mind is too preoccupied screaming, <em>vampire vampire vampire.<em> She knows the vile thoughts are the Alchemists' doing, so she pushes them aside and tries to ignore them as best as she can. It will probably take a while for her to return back to how she used to be, but she knows it will be worth it.

For now, she just stares at him expectantly and waits.

He knows what she is asking of him immediately. He gets her, as usual.

"You don't have to do that, Sydney. I won't hurt you. I won't even touch you. I just need," he swallows heavily, "I just need you to be close tonight." He's asking too much of her and he knows it, as she knows that if she doesn't budge, he'll let her do whatever she wants.

She doesn't budge.

"I need some space. At least for tonight. It's too much too soon and I- I hope you understand my reasoning for doing this-" the way she's speaking reminds her painfully of the robotic voice in her cell, and that does it. Uninvited images fill her brain- of scarlet blood, _her _scarlet blood, running down her neck, slippery and disgusting and filled with unwanted endorphins, of white, sharp fangs covered in scarlet blood, _her _scarlet blood, and still hungry, so, so hungry for her blood, of the voice filling her cell, telling her what to do, of her doing what she was told-

Suddenly, even standing upright feels like too much effort. She grits her teeth and holds her ground. She is a warrior and she won't budge.

"It's what I want for tonight. And that's that." It's not a plea; it's a statement.

He seems slightly hurt by her words, but still says, "I'll set up the couch for me. You go lie down on the bed. Get some rest."

She smiles faintly, gratefully at him,

"goodnight, Adrian," she whispers,

and goes.

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><p>Sometime around midnight, the first scream erupts.<p>

Adrian wakes up, terrified and so, so sure it's him the screaming's coming from- nightmares haven't been a rare occurence for the past four months- but then he sits up straight, the sleepy haze in his head dissolving almost immediately.

The sound is coming from the bedroom and the source of it is unmistakably Sydney. His heart beats wildly, agonizingly fast against his ribcage. He rids himself of the bedcover and stands up so quickly he almost trips over. He rushes to the bedroom and when he opens the door, the sight before him breaks his heart all over again.

She's thrashing violently, her fists clenching spastically the white sheets on her sides, sweat obvious all over her face and collarbones. And her face. Oh her face. Her mouth is still half-open, caught mid-scream, her eyes shut painfully tight, her chest heaving with sobs. Her expression is a canvas of emotions - all of them bad. Terror mixed with fright and disgust and absolute, mindnumbing horror. He never wants to know what kind of nightmare is currently being reenacted in her head, but at the same time he wants her to tell him everything that's happened to her, even if it kills him.

For now, he simply runs to her side and touches her burning forehead tenderly. Her stiff stance loosens up some and those gut-wrenching screams cease almost completely, but she keeps twitching on the bed, mumbling incoherent words in her sleep, breathing in short gasps, distress written all over her. He climbs onto the bed, lies next to her and takes her in his arms. He strokes her hair and kisses her tear-streaked cheeks and swallows back the sob that rises in his throat and whispers in her ear that he loves her and that she's safe and pleads her to wake up, to open her eyes, to come back to him,

(shhhh-shh-it's okay, it's okay)

and he strokes and kisses and swallows and whispers whispers whispers for what feels like forever, until her hands reach for him blindly and fist the front of his shirt and her breathing quiets down and her body relaxes against him and he can breathe again.

He doesn't leave the bed.

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><p>They don't talk about it in the morning, not really, but he looks at her and he knows that she knows what happened and he can see the unspoken gratitude shining in her eyes before she gets up and disappears in the bathroom.<p>

(She never wants to sleep without him again.)

And every night, as they lie next to each other, engulfed in darkness and in safety, he chases away the nightmares and kisses away her tears. She doesn't scream in her sleep anymore.

The person she's been scraping her throat raw for to come and get her lies right beside her.

She hopes he always will.

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><p>AN: You're all so sweet! I mean, God, 10 reviews on my first story? Now _that _was unexpected. And each and every one of them was so cute and nice and you're all lovely. And you also gave me the motivation I needed to keep writing, so I proudly present you Chapter 2 (which I haven't thoroughly proofread so mistakes might be noticed- you're welcome to tell me so I can fix them.) Again, thank you for the reviews and favorites and follows and I'm rambling but I'm just too happy to care. See you in Ch3.


	3. Chapter 3

Every night, before they go to sleep, Sydney spends a good two hours out at the apartment' s balcony, just wordlessly staring up at the moon and stars.

At first he finds it strange - she's never had that kind of fascination with the night sky before - but after a while it becomes less weird and more endearing, the way she's made it out to be her standard nightly ritual. It's always the same.

She starts by bringing- well, dragging, really- the heavy reclining chair out of the living room and onto the balcony. Then, she picks out a book she likes - he notices it's always some nice, cute story, preferably one where the characters get their happy ending - she has grown to avoid gruesome, sad stories by all means - makes herself a cup of tea and lies down on her chair. After that, she mostly just stays still for hours, eyes cast upwards, her book long forgotten in her lap, a look of utter contentment on her face. He thinks she's adorable like this, lips slightly turned up in a real smile that makes her entire face glow and softens her features.

After a while, he takes a habit of joining her. When he brings out his own chair for the first time, she just glances at him curiously and smiles wider. His heart flutters at the sight, and he thinks to himself that he could watch her smile for an eternity and never get tired of it.

During the first couple of weeks, this is their routine before they retreat to the bedroom; Sydney's gaze glued to the stars, Adrian's gaze glued to Sydney. He loves the way her eyes shine, he loves the way the moon illuminates her pale skin,he loves the way her blonde hair frames her face, he loves the way she curls her legs underneath herself, he loves her.

Sometimes, she lowers her eyes and looks at him just as these thoughts cross his mind, as if she's somehow sensed them lurking in his head. She can read him so damn well, he feels exposed around her. Exposed in the best way possible. Every flaw and thought and word transparent for her to see. And he wants that as much as he needs it. This perfect, complete communication between them.

Then, one day, she asks him seemingly nonchalantly, her gaze still trained on the stars,

"Would you come over here already? You're always so far away at night."

Her voice is just the tiniest bit off; she sounds normal, almost jocular, but her tone is somewhat distant. Her mind isn't wholly in the here and now.

He's gotten used to it, but he still worries about it. About her. He just can't help it. He knows she's strong, strong and stubborn, but her stubborness is preventing her from discussing whatever it was these bastards did to her in reeducation -not only because it's hard for her to talk about it, but also because she fears she might seem weak in front of him. He knows this instinctively, understanding her like only he can. How she could ever become weak in his eyes is beyond his comprehension- she's quite literally the toughest, most strong-willed person he knows. He's always believed that.

He gets up from his own chair and approaches her much more comfortable one. She scoots aside and makes place for him to sit beside her. He lies all the way back and looks at his side, where Sydney is watching him the same way she's been staring at the stars all this time; awestruck and loving. He returns the intensity of her look, and then holds out his hands in a silent invitation.

She thinks about it for a moment, and then moves carefully over him. She tangles her legs with his, loops her hands around his neck and burrows her head in his chest.

"Better now?" he asks.

"Much," she replies before moving her head a little to the left. She places a soft kiss right on top of his beating, racing heart.

And then she does it again,

again,

(her breath fanning accross his chest)

again,

(the heat reaching him over layers of clothing)

again,

(him raising his limp hands from his sides to run them through her hair)

again,

(suddenly he's ready to burst because she's here with him and she's almost normal and it's not some crazy dream or a hallucination and her solid body placed on top of him is really her, it's Sydney, his Sage, and why is his heart about to explode)

again,

one last time,

(his heart rate increasing more and more because of the simple contact,

slamming against his ribs,

caged into his bones,

trying desperately to reach out to her).

His arms move from her hair to her waist as she adjusts her position so that her head fits in the crook of his neck and she can still see the stars in her periphery of vision.

It's perfect.

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><p>"I didn't think I'd ever see the stars again. <em>In this lifetime,<em> I kept thinking to myself, _you will never again see the night sky_. And I thought it was so unfair."

She blinks rapidly, evidently trying to hold back tears, and his arms tighten around her, shielding her from invisible threats.

"In a way, never seeing your face again felt... not deserved, exactly... but it seemed reasonable. To their eyes, I had sinned, and that was how they'd punish me. But... why wouldn't they let me see the sun, feel its warmth on my skin, have the wind whip my hair, let me gaze at the stars?"

_Because they're assholes, _he wants to say, but refrains from it, choosing to let her let out whatever she wants to tell him instead.

"They had me in this... this windowless, tiny room... and I wanted to get out so badly..."

He starts stroking her hair softly, tenderly, and murmurs, "you're out now."

She looks up at him, a sad look crossing her features. "I'd had these awful thoughts... That they could let me go outside, let me see everything for one last time, and then they could kill me, and I would die happy-" her voice breaks as she utters the last words, and his heart breaks as he hears her saying them. "I'm not proud of this," she adds quickly. "I'm not. I shouldn't have lost my hope, not for a second, or my faith that you'd help me get out. But it was so difficult at times-"

"I know. I know. I understand," he says reassuringly as he runs his hands through her hair. He twists his head to the side so he can place a sweet kiss on her forehead. "You've been so strong, and I'm so proud of you."

She throws him a watery smile and strokes his cheek with her fingertips.

"I love you so much," she whispers. And then, her voice made forcefully light, "Escape plan number sixty four: buy a telescope and put it to good use."

"My God, have you lowered your standards lately. Remembered when you suggested we go to Sweden and Fiji?" he teases her.

"Hey, these were _your _suggestions! Don't put words into my mouth, Adrian Ivashkov," she warns him jokingly, mock-agitated.

"Or what?" he challenges daringly.

"Or I'll have to shut your mouth by force."

"And how exactly are you planning to-"

She steals any more words he has to say by firmly pressing her lips on his, effectively silencing him.

It's the best kind of silence, he thinks as he kisses her back with equal fervor. He wouldn't even dream of complaining.

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><p>AN: Thank you for the support and the positivity! Your reviews make me smile so much! (Constructive criticism is much appreciated, of course.) Just wanted to say, this chapter is set quite some time after the second one. I'll come back to fill the time gap I've left unwritten in the next chapters, probably. So, see you in Ch4.


	4. Chapter 4

"Sydney."

Her back is to him, and she' s shaking. The sobs that are racking her small frame are quiet, almost soundless, but he's slowly waking up anyway.

She's sitting at the edge of his- their- bed, body bent forward, while he's lying on the other side of it. He would still be soundly asleep if it weren't for his supernaturally strong hearing and for the fact that he's become positively more jumpy over the course of the last few months.

He moves until he's in a sitting position and then touches her bare shoulder lightly. When she shies away from his touch, he knows for sure that something is wrong.

"Are you crying?" he asks cautiously.

"I' m not," she replies, even though he can hear her sniffling. She raises her hands at her face and wipes furiously.

"Why are you-"

"I'm not! I'm not crying," she repeats loudly, her voice angry. At him or at herself, he can't really say. He can feel himself frowning. He's been doing that a lot lately. He presses his mouth on her shoulder tenderly, placing the softest of kisses there.

"Lying is a sin, Sage."

"I don't care," she chokes out, and then laughs bitterly through her tears. "Not anymore."

"Tell me what's wrong", he all but pleads her.

"As if you don't already know," she bites out. He stares at her bewildered. She was just fine before they went to sleep -as fine as one can be after everything she's gone through, anyway. She'd let him cuddle with her on the couch, they'd watched a movie and she had even laughed at some of the crappy jokes. To him, this had seemed like a whole lot of progress. But apparently it's not.

"Look at me, Adrian," she cries out so suddenly, he startles violently. She turns around completely so that she's facing him, and her red eyes almost undo him right then and there.

"I am looking at you," he replies cautiously, trying to understand what the hell is going on in her head right now.

"What do you see?", she asks forcefully.

"I see _you,_" he says, trying to understand where she's going with this.

"Do you really? Because I certainly don't."

"What- what do you mean?", he asks, completely taken aback.

"I feel like a different person," she says in a small voice. "I'm constantly crying, I have nightmares every single night. I- I feel useless. I feel like a burden. And it's killing me. The crying, the weakness- it's killing me. I've become a hollow shell of myself. What good am I to you while I'm like this? What good am I to anyone?", she whispers almost desperately. His heart aches for her.

"We've been through this before, Sydney. You don't have to do this anymore. Stop beating yourself up over the fact that someone tortured you, for god's sake," he says, voice trembling slightly towards the end. She opens her mouth to speak, but he's not finished talking yet. "I know you were used to taking care of everyone for so long. In Utah and in Russia and in Palm Springs, you were always the responsible one. The strong one. But here, with me," he reaches out and gently touches her cheek with his knuckles, "you don't have to be. It's alright if you let yourself relax for a while."

"I can't. I don't feel relaxed. I feel messed up. I feel... broken," she says quietly. "I don't know how to live with myself when I'm like this. Helpless." She swallows hard. "Weak." Tears spill from under her lowered lashes. Her chest shakes with every hard breath she takes as her crying picks up again. "S-see? I'm c-crying again," she heaves through a sob. "I'm a-always, always crying. I don't d-do that. You know I-I don't." Her tears keep tracing paths down her cheeks, and she looks at him with a surprising fierceness in her eyes, urging him to understand.

"Sage, come on. This is nonsense. You're not weak. You're the strongest woman I've ever known. This isn't weakness. You giving up would be weak. You haven't, have you? I can see you fighting. Even now, after all this, you're still fighting."

She only cries harder. He wants to comfort her, but he's not sure how. He wants to cry, too.

"I'm making everything so difficult," she finally says through tears. "Can't you see that? Every-everything would be so much easier without me."

Her words send stabs of pain in his heart. She couldn't be farther from the truth. How can she be so smart and so blind at the same time? "I don't want easy, don't you understand that? I only want you. You laughing, you smiling, you crying your eyes out, it doesn't matter. As long as I'm with you," he declares softly, "I don't care about easy. Easy is boring, anyway. And we're anything but," he smiles slyly.

"I want to believe you so bad," she replies lowly, uncertainly.

"Then do. Because I mean every word."

She turns away from him again. "I just hate you seeing me like this."

"What, crying?"

"Yes, crying. I hate crying. I hate crying in front of you _so much."_

"Well, you shouldn't. Look, I know you think you have to be strong for the both of us, but you forget that I've changed, too. I don't need to be protected at the cost of your own mental health. I'm nothing like the man I was when you first met me. I'm not a child, either."

She makes a sound of protest and angles her body towards him once again. "I never said you were. Adrian-"

"Sydney, please, hear me out," he says pleadingly. " I know that crying in front of people makes you uncomfortable, because I know you. Better than anyone. And you have to trust me when I tell you than none of this can make me think any different of you. You're still my amazingly smart, insanely good-looking, strong, motivated girlfriend. You can cry in front of me as much as you want. It won't change anything. I'm not going anywhere. I swear."

She lurches forward so suddenly, she practically tackles him on the bed. She's featherlight-heavy on top of him, since she's so much thinner than she's ever been in all the time he's known her. She wraps her limbs around him and then promptly bursts in tears. Hard, painful sobs and long, high-pitched wails against his solid chest. It feels good. Cathartic. Like all the pain and shame she's been bottling up since she was captured are finally finding a way out.

"Shhh, let it out, let it all out," he murmurs comfortingly, wrapping her up in his arms. Small hiccups interrupt her crying from time to time, and he can feel his shirt getting progressively wetter from her tears, but he can't bring himself to care. He combs his hands through her hair and lets her cry next to him until her sobs turn to whimpers and hitched breaths. They stay like this for a long time.

Finally, he pulls her up until her face is only a breath away from his and then wipes away her tears with his thumbs.

"Feel any better?", he asks, the softest smile on his face. To his relief, she smiles back, as softly, as lovingly.

"Much," she replies. She thinks for a moment before she says her next words. "I think it was one of those things that you didn't know you needed until they actually happen, you know?" Her voice is already closing up because of all the crying she's done tonight. It's softer than ever, slightly scratching her throat on its way out. To Adrian, it sounds like the most beautiful melody. She sniffles and coughs a little, clearing her throat. "Thank you," she says, and the happiness the simple words cause him is undescribable.

"Anything to help you, Sage. Anytime," he tells her honestly. He knows he would do anything for the girl in his arms.

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><p>AN: Thank you so much for each and every review! You're all wonderful! (And of course feel free to leave constructive criticism.) (The pacing in this chapter is somewhat off, but I just couldn't get it right. Might be due to my constant lack of sleep lately. Or not.) See you in Ch5!

ETA: Thank you, CherrySlushLover, for pointing out the accidentally italicised text. :)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N[1]: I'm still new to the whole fanfiction thing, so I don't know the etiquette for this kind of thing. I'll just put it up here.

**Trigger warning: This chapter contains references to anorexia, heart attacks and needles. If you're sensitive to any of these things, I suggest that you avoid this chapter altogether.**

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><p>She hadn't been eating normally ever since she was out of re-education, but he hadn't paid much attention to it. No one had. There were more urgent issues that needed to be solved. Them going into hiding. Placating the Alchemists so that they wouldn't involve Lissa or the Moroi world to anything that had happened. Travelling halfway accross the world so that they could start over. They didn't pay much attention to Sydney slowly starving herself. They didn't pay much attention to her bones that had become more prominent than they were when they first got her back to safety.<p>

They should have.

He should have.

He should have.

He was supposed to take care of her.

He should have.

Everyone was shocked when, one day,

her heart  
>simply<br>stopped.

* * *

><p>"Sydney," he nudged her side. She had fallen asleep on the couch, her head on his shoulder. Soft snores were coming out of her half-opened mouth.<p>

She was adorable. Beautiful. His heart clenched at the realization that she was his as much as he was hers.

He shook her kindly. "Sydney, come. Let's go to bed," he told her quietly.

She opened her eyes slowly, sleepiness evident all over her face. "Is it too late?", she asked him.

"It's past midnight," he said.

"Then we should-" She didn't get to finish her sentence. She gasped loudly, startled.

"What is it?" His voice was alarmed, his whole being more alert than it was a moment ago.

She didn't reply. She only clutched her sternum with her hands, surprise dancing in her features. She tried to take a deep breath, but it came out tight and short. Her mouth was open, but no intelligible sound came out. She groaned, low and pained.

He was frantic by now. He could see her collarbones rising and falling rapidly. Couldn't figure out what was wrong with her for the life of him. "Can you hear me? Sydney, can you hear me?", he asked her. His voice sounded agonized, like he was in pain. He cupped her cheeks gently, urging her to look at him.

"Yes," she got out with difficulty. Then, "please," she said, "I'm dying."

His heart dropped. This was stuff of his nightmares. Of his very very worst nightmares. He felt sick. He felt horrible. He felt irresponsible. He was responsible. He shouldn't have started taking the mood stabilizers as soon as Sydney came back. He shouldn't have thrown away his spirit like this while there was still a chance she might need it. He shouldn't have put his health before hers.

He scooped her up in his arms and exited their apartment as quickly as he could.

Not enough.

* * *

><p>He rushed her in the first human hospital he could find. Now he's in the waiting room.<p>

Waiting.

He calls Jill first. She's with Eddie. That's good. That's good.

He tells them to come as fast as they can. If he has to wait all alone for any longer, he will literally go mad and it will have nothing to do with spirit. He doesn't tell them what's wrong with Sydney, no matter how many times they ask him.

He doesn't know.

They come with Rose in tow.

"She found out and wanted to come," Jill says unapologetically. She looks paler than usual. She looks older, somehow.

"Of course I did. Sydney's my friend, too," she says harshly. He doesn't take offense. He can tell she's only playing tough so that she doesn't start crying. Too bad Eddie hasn't perfected that particular ability yet. His eyes are red. His shoulders slumped. The corners of his eyes look wet.

"How is she?", he asks. Ah. The million dollars question.

Too bad there's no answer.

"I don't know," Adrian replies monotonously.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," he repeats.

"But you were there-"

"I don't know, okay?", he half-shouts, voice broken. A nurse that walks by them glances his way disapprovingly. "I have no idea," he says, trying to calm himself. She's fine. She must be. Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths. He sits down on one of the hard plastic chairs and motions for Jill to come sit next to him. She does, and then she puts her long, willowy arms around him and he has to swallow back sobs. He touches his forehead on her shoulder. Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths. Rose sits next to them and touches his arm lightly.

"She'll be okay, Adrian. I know she will. It's Sydney we're talking about, right? I can't think of one thing this girl couldn't do while we were together." Her hand tightens on his arm. "She'll get through this. She's a warrior. You'll see," she says, but her own voice trembles and she has to stop talking or she'll start crying.

Eddie is still standing, positioned as a guardian should. Alert and ready to protect them. From what, he doesn't know.

The worst has already happened.

* * *

><p>Hours later, a doctor approaches them. They all launch themselves at him, impatient and scared. Adrian feels as if his heart has taken permanent residence in his throat.<p>

"Are you family?"

No one hesitates. "Yes," Eddie says with certainty. "We are."

"How is she?", Jill rushes to ask.

The man hesitates before speaking. "She will live," he settles on saying.

He looks towards Adrian, then at the rest of them, then back at him.

"You were the one who brought her in, correct?"

Adrian nods, unsure of where this is going.

"Can I speak to you for a second? Alone?", he says seriously.

"Yes, of course. Of course," he replies.

"Wait," Rose calls out just as they're about to turn around and walk in the opposite direction. "Is she awake?", she asks.

"Yes, she has come to," the doctor says slowly.

"Can we go see her?", she asks hopefully. Jill nods vigorously next to her.

He thinks for some moments. "One person at a time," he finally says. "Do not tire her too much. Just let her see you, maybe talk for a while. Do not pressure her."

"I'll go," Rose says immediately. "Is that okay?", she asks Jill and Eddie as an afterthought.

"We'll wait out here," Eddie says, slinging an arm around Jill's shoulders reassuringly.

"Room 352," the doctor tells her.

She runs.

* * *

><p>"What's wrong with her? Is she... is she going to be okay?", Adrian asks him as soon as they're alone. He braces himself for the worst, but he can't stop the hope that's blossoming inside of him. <em>She will live. She will live.<em>

"We don't believe it will severely affect her in the long run, no."

He can't help the relieved sigh that the doctor's words cause. But his next words stop him mid-track.

"Were you aware that the patient is seriously malnutritioned?", he asks. "Underfed," he offers helpfully at Adrian's tentative look.

He takes a deep breath, trying to squash down the surfacing images of Sydney's bony figure. Too bony. Unhealthily bony. Protruding bones and sharp angles. A hard, cold armor of her own making. He's only now realizing that, ever since they were reunited, she hasn't been gaining back the weight she'd lost. Not in the least. _Stupid, selfish._ Why hadn't he noticed this before any of this happened? He closes his eyes briefly. Opens them again. Deep breaths.

Deep, deep breaths.

"Yes," he says miserably. "I was aware."

"I suppose you didn't know the complications such a... situation may entail."

He shakes his head, dreading what he's going to hear next.

"The muscles of the heart starve along with the patient. They lose mass. We ran some tests. Her heart is weakened." He pauses momentarily. "What happened was a light case of myocardial infarction."

Adrian gives him a baffled look.

"Heart attack," the doctor says simply, unflinchingly.

"Oh," he replies dumbly. _Heart attack. Sydney. His Sage. Heart attack._

It seems unreal. The words don't make any sense. He feels queasy, about to be sick. He can't fall apart, not right now. He's stronger than that. He has to be. But the words won't leave his mind. She had a heart attack. They live together now and he still managed to fail her. The well-known wave of self-hatred that had been plaguing him during all four months that Sydney was taken is making a reappearance. But at the same time, he can almost hear her lovely voice in his head. _It's not your fault, Adrian,_ she's saying. He can almost see the sadness that will fill her eyes if he lets himself feel this way.

So he doesn't.

"This kind of thing is often attributed to anorexia nervosa, but this doesn't seem to be the case. Honestly, we couldn't figure out what it is that's preventing her from eating as she should. I'd suggest that she should start seeing a therapist. He will help her way more than you or I can."

His head's spinning, but somehow he manages to walk back to the waiting room, after hastily thanking the doctor.

Jill and Eddie are still there, looking at him expectantly.

"Heart attack," he chokes out.

"Oh, Adrian," Jill says, quickly masking her shock. She guides him to the ugly, cold chairs and sits him down, Eddie on his other side. He's thankful they're both there for him. Their very presence is comforting. They've truly become a family.

* * *

><p>Sydney is already in a sitting position when Rose enters the white hospital room.<p>

(It really is unfortunate that Sydney hates the whiteness with a burning passion. It reminds her of her cell in re-education too much. Cold, hard walls. Absence of color. Absence of life. Absence of control over her own self. She felt the need to rip the IV off of her arm as soon as she woke up, just to prove that she could. She had the common sense not to. This stuff might go over well in one of those dramatic movies where the tragic heroine rebels against everything and everyone by pulling out the needles, but Sydney knows perfectly well that, right now, the fluids are very much helping in keeping her alive. She doesn't touch the needle. Just stares at it with detestation from time to time.)

She jumps slightly when she spots Rose standing in the doorway.

"Hello, Sydney," she says tightly. Nervousness swells into her chest. Her relief at seeing her sitting there, seemingly perfectly okay, is suffocating her.

Sydney can sense her mood. It really is odd, the way she's so oblivious to people's feelings most of the time, but can see right through Rose. "Come sit by me," she calls out. Her voice sounds tired to her own ears. Rose approaches her bed and sits gingerly at the edge of it. And then she can't hold it together any longer. She reaches forward and envelopes the other girl in a crushing hug. She wraps her arms all the way around her and squeezes, until the urge to cry has safely passed. She lets out hard, uneven breaths against her neck.

"You scared us to death!", she whispers harshly. "I was so afraid something bad would happen. So... so afraid. We just got you back and you..."

Sydney hugs her back as fiercely, though careful of the IV tube that drips life into her veins. "I know. I know." She pulls back reluctantly and stares into dark brown eyes. "Don't worry. I'm fine now," she adds reassuringly. But Rose's trained guardian eyes can see the dark circles under her eyes and the exhaustion in her stance. She doesn't say anything, just grabs her small, fragile fingers and squeezes them softly.

"Whatever you might need, Sydney. Whatever it is. Call me. Whenever. I know we haven't really talked lately, but you... you're my friend. I need you to be okay," she says, eyes shining with sincerity and unshed tears.

"I understand, Rose. I appreciate it. I think of you as my friend, too." That's pretty big, coming from her, seeing as she really thought of Rose as an evil creature of the night no more than a year ago, and then had re-education attempt to reinforce that notion. They smile at each other for a moment.

Then Sydney yawns, and Rose decides it's her cue to leave.

"I'll let you rest now, yeah? You must be tired. Unless you want me to stay, of course," she adds hurriedly. She would gladly stay if she knew it would help Sydney in any way.

"Thanks for the offer. But I'll probably fall asleep in a minute or so, anyway. Go back to Lissa. Don't worry about me."

"I can't not worry about you," she replies before pulling her in for another hug. Sydney pats her back somewhat awkwardly, but the smile Rose's visit has brought to her lips is heartfelt. She presses a kiss to the other girl's cheek, and Rose shoots her a blinding smile before standing up and leaving the room.

* * *

><p>"She's fine, as far as I could tell," she tells Adrian as soon as she spots him only steps away from the door. "Tired. And so <em>thin.<em>" She presses her lips together for a moment, angry at herself. "Adrian, how could we let that happen to her? After everything we went through to save her, how didn't we notice _that_?"

"I don't know, Rose. I've only been wondering for the last ten hours." The frown between his eyebrows feels like a permanent fixture on his face tonight.

"Go ahead," she encourages him. "I'm sure she can't wait to see you."

He makes Jill and Eddie go inside first, despite their protests. He can't keep them in the hospital all night, he says. They'll have to leave soon, he says. He'll spend the night there anyway, he says. And finally, finally they comply.

* * *

><p>They stay in her room for no more than fifteen minutes, mindful of the doctor's orders. They keep the conversation light and comforting. And then Jill gives her a warm hug and Eddie kisses her on the forehead and they're out the door and Adrian is suddenly sitting beside her on the bed.<p>

"I don't want to talk about it right now," are her first words to him.

"Then don't. Just tell me what you want," he replies gently.

"I'm so tired. I just want to sleep." She stares at him for a long moment. "Hold my hand. I want to know you're here."

He clasps her hand in his. "I'm always here," he says. He brings the cheap plastic hospital chair closer to the bed and sits there, watching her protectively as she falls asleep with a small smile on her face and a needle on her arm.

* * *

><p>Three days later, the human doctor finally deems her fit to leave. Just before they exit the room, the doctor leans closer to Adrian and whispers good-naturedly, "Don't forget what I told you."<p>

He hasn't.

(It's been playing in his mind like a broken record for countless hours in the past few days.)

So when they get back to the apartment, he tells her. He knows he can't hide his thoughts from her, anyway. She already asked him three times what was wrong on the ride back home.

"The doctor said it happened because of starvation. And then suggested that you see a therapist about it." His words are blunt, but his tone is soft. Caring. "And I agree with him. Why did you do it, Sage? Why would you stop eating?"

"Adrian," she sighs softly. "This is embarassing," she mutters to herself. And then, louder, "I was locked away for four months. For four months, whenever the Alchemists didn't have me hooked up to an IV, they'd starve me to death. Eventually, I got used to it. My _body_ got used to it. I can't go back to eating normally on the drop of a hat. I'm not a machine."

He ponders this for some minutes, trying to find the best way to say out loud what's on his mind. At last, he says, "I hate every single thing they did to you in there, but this I might hate the most. It directly affected you physically, you know? We can work through their lies and mind games, but this... This could have taken you from me once and for all."

She steps closer to him and caresses his cheek. "It didn't. It's okay."

"I still think that maybe you should see a therapist though," he says quickly. She reels back with shaky steps. She can't help the feeling of betrayal that claws its way at her chest. _Weak, crazy, weak, crazy_, her mind chants. Therapy. Doctors in white lab coats who pry at her mind, who slice her wide open to see all the mad thoughts floating all around her head.

Therapy.

Bad.

Therapy.

Mad.

"You wouldn't do it. You wouldn't make me go. No, no no no-" She puts a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the oncoming sob with little success. "I already told you," she whispers, "I told you why I wasn't eating well. Please, don't send me there-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. Okay, first of all, I never said you had to do it. It was merely a suggestion. When have I ever pressured you to do anything you weren't comfortable with?"

"Never," she mumbles.

"And, I don't know what kind of therapy you're thinking about that's got you that scared."

"I'm not crazy, Adrian," she snaps. "I don't need to have one more person tell me that I am."

"You're not crazy," he concedes. "Of course you're not. Nobody will ever say that you are. But what if therapy could help you? What if it stopped the nightmares? What if it made you feel better? Why are you so ready to shoot the possibility down?"

"Because. What if they do tell you I've got problems they can't fix? I can't be locked away again. It will just be re-education all over again," she replies, her voice thick. "I can't risk that."

"You're not risking anything because nobody will dare lay a finger on you for as long as I'm around," he says easily. "No thing that a doctor might say can ever make me let them take you away from me. Again."

Adrian rarely ever lies, and it's easy for her to see through him. She knows he's telling the truth, but the thought of therapy still makes her scared senseless.

"It's not like you'll be spending the day in a treatment center or some shit like that. I was thinking something along the lines of, say, weekly sessions. Just to see if it's worth the effort. Whether it can help you," he coaxes her gently. "If you want to go. It's still your decision, Sage, and I can see why you wouldn't want to do it. It's entirely up to you. Really."

"Let me just think about it. Sit on it for a while," she says, attempting a compromise. Truth is, it _does _sound appealing to her after all the talking he's done. It _would _be nice if she got rid of the nightmares.

(She might not scream and thrash around anymore, but she still has them, fairly regular. And when she does, it's torture.)

But still.

She'll think about it.

"I'm tired," she opts to say next. "Why don't we go lie down?" She smiles at him, that smile that lights up his world, and grabs his hand, small fingers curling around his and pulling him towards their bedroom.

* * *

><p>(And when, two days later, she tells him that she'll do it- she'll go see a therapist- he isn't that surprised. He knew she'd make the right choice.<p>

His incredibly smart and stunningly strong girl.

His Sage.)

* * *

><p>AN[2]: I'm too tired to proofread this- please excuse any mistakes. I couldn't find anyone who had extensive knowledge over heart attacks, so I simply went with what I could find on wikipedia. The details and explanations I have given might be terribly wrong- I wouldn't know. Sorry!  
>Thank you for the reviews, follows and favorites. You're all absolutely lovely! I couldn't ask for better readers.<br>See you in Ch6!


	6. Chapter 6

_"Adrian."_

_Her voice was just a breathless whisper, a helpless little sound, drowned out by the wild beating of her heart. But it was still audible to the Alchemists' ears._

_Nothing ever got past them._

_"The vampire's not here, Sydney. It's just you now. He used you and then he left you. He corrupted your soul, dirtied your mind, and abandoned you. Just as we knew he would. Just as you should know he would." _

_The voice filled the room from everywhere. She couldn't make it stop. She had tried and failed plenty of times. It was maddening, which was the purpose, she supposed. It had been her biggest fear since she had been placed in re-education. The mere possibility that she would start believing what they were saying. She wouldn't. She would not, under any circumstances, believe them. It would take much more than a faceless voice to break her. She needed to have faith in that, if she wanted to stay strong, first for her sanity of mind and second for Adrian._

_Adrian._

_"No- you have it all wrong- he would never- no, please, please, don't-"_

_Her scream pierced the air just as the unknown Moroi's fangs pierced her skin. She felt the pain, as strong as she'd thought it would be, and waited for the endorphins to take effect._

_But they didn't._

_The pain only intensified with each passing moment, until her vision went black and the only things she was aware of were the blood running down her neck and her high-pitched, __never-ending __scream._

* * *

><p><em>"He didn't love you, Sydney. How could he? He's Moroi. They don't feel things the way we do. He never really loved you. You were just naive. "<em>

_Lies, lies, lies. She knew that. She did, she did. They were great liars. They were the ones who had taught her how to lie. It was part of their job._

_They were liars, she amongst them._

_Was he?_

_No. No. _No.

_He loved her. He did._

_Adrian._

_(Her Adrian.)_

_"But we want to believe there's still hope for you. You have strayed from the path of God, but you can right your wrongs. Work with us, and you can be forgiven."_

_No._

_She didn't reply. Instead, she curled in the corner of the room, and tried to hide her tears._

* * *

><p><em>(She only wanted it to end. The lies, the voices, the blinding white lights. Everything. <em>

_When the drugs knocked her out, it was bliss._

_She only wanted it to end._

_Please. Please-)_

* * *

><p>She wakes up panting, a scream caught deep in her throat, but it's okay, because he's here now, and they're safe and she's safe and it will be okay, it will be, it will be.<p>

She looks down at her trembling hands and then lifts her palm shakily to wipe the sweat off her forehead. She wipes a stray tear on her cheek while she's at it, and wraps the blankets more tightly around her.

She misses him so much right now that the feeling leaves her breathless and aching. She fiercely wishes he didn't have to go to Court tonight, but the call made by queen Vasilisa herself was too important to ignore. And as reluctant as he was to let her on her own for the whole day, she managed to reassure him she was going to be alright. Now she has to stay true to her promise.

(The two of them might be each other's strength, but that doesn't mean they don't possess their own.)

She stumbles out of bed and goes to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea and calm her breathing. She sips quietly, leaning against the kitchen counter, and reminds herself that she's fine. There's no reason to worry. She's safe from the Alchemists and Adrian will be here tomorrow and everything will be okay.

Surprisingly, by the time she puts her empty cup in the sink and returns to bed, the thought is no longer a meaningless mantra.

She fully believes that it will be okay.

* * *

><p>When he finally, finally steps into their apartment and closes the door behind him in the morning, she practically flies into his arms, arms around his neck and legs around his waist. "I missed you," she mumbles into his chest. He just laughs happily, and the sound is enough to make her giddy. He has a very nice laugh, she thinks as the beautiful melody echoes throughout the apartment.<p>

"I missed you too, Sage," he declares grandly before leaning in and kissing her, hard. She presses herself against him as she returns the kiss, which soon takes them to their bedroom, Sydney on top of him, exchanging soft kisses and shy touches.

He' s hesitant at first. He always is when it comes to those precious, intimate moments between them. Too scared to rush her into things she's not ready to do just yet. But the way she kisses him, straddling his waist, the way she sucks softly on his neck for a moment before bringing their mouths back together, the way her small hands travel all the way up his sides and back down, the way her eyes shine and the way her mouth curves against his, smiling, while they kiss, are telling him a different story altogether.

And soon enough, he finds his hands wandering slowly across her body too. He waits for her to stop him,

but,

thank God,

she doesn't.

She only gasps, tiny, breathy sounds escaping her, as he flips them over and looks down at her.

"I want to paint you," he whispers huskily, and somehow, it's the sexiest thing she's ever heard.

"Later," she breathes, and then forgets how to, while his lips get reacquainted with the soft skin of her throat. After some moments, he pauses, lips stilling on her skin.

"We can stop now. If you want," he tells her seriously, lifting his head from the crook of her neck so that he can look into her golden eyes.

"I don't want to stop," she whispers faintly. "Don't stop. It's okay."

The sincerity of her voice is enough to make him cave, but he needs to make sure she truly is okay with this first. This feels like a second chance. Their first time, redone. He won't screw it up by rushing things. "The moment you want to stop, you tell me."

She nods, once, and then they get back to work, kissing and touching and undressing and moving in synchrony, in that rhythm that is just their own, that they both know so well, that they have been craving for so long.

(The hard thumping inside her ribcage isn't caused by fear for the first time in so long, and it feels like freedom- it feels like coming alive after a lifetime in the land of the dead.)

She doesn't stop him once.

She only tells him,

"I love you,"

more than once.

* * *

><p>Lying together, reveling in the afterglow, she can't stop smiling. Neither can he, it seems. As he smooths her sweaty hair back and kisses her temple, the smile is gradually replaced by a frown, a small crease right between his eyebrows, the one he gets whenever an unpleasant thought has just occurred to him.<p>

"Did you have any nightmares yesterday?", he asks casually.

She could lie, and she probably should, because the damsel in distress role is starting to wear her out, but she can't lie to him. As much as she'd want to right now.

"It wasn't bad. Don't worry," she opts to say.

He curses under his breath and tightens his arms around her. "I shouldn't have left in the middle of the night. God, Sage, I'm sorry."

She doesn't want to hear it. She cups his cheek and gives him a long kiss. When it ends, she tells him, "Don't be." She stares into emerald green eyes for a moment. "I'm not made of porcelain, Adrian. I had a nightmare. I woke up. I did what my therapist told me to do in these cases. Everything," she pauses for a moment to give him a light peck on the lips, "is okay. Really."

And he believes her.

Everything is okay.

* * *

><p>AN: Hi! As always, thanks for all the lovely reviews- to say that they make my day would be a gross understatement. I hope you enjoyed reading this, because I definitely enjoyed writing it. Ughh, Sydrian fluff is slowly becoming my life! So, see you in Ch7!


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